


Waiting

by BloodyCheesecake



Category: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, Bad Parenting, Child Neglect, Gen, Rain, Sad and Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25730737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyCheesecake/pseuds/BloodyCheesecake
Summary: After baseball practice Mike is left alone to wait on the curb as usual, but Charlie feels that something might be off, especially considering the heavy rain clouds closing in overhead.
Relationships: Charlie Bucket & Mike Teavee
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26





	Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> My first fan-fiction, I hope it’s enjoyable.  
> Everyone lives in the same town in this AU that I haven’t given a proper introduction to.

The sound of a wooden bat striking a ball echoed far across a sunset colored baseball field.  
  
“It’s a hole in one!” Augustus could be heard yelling, sitting on the sidelines.  
  
“It’s home run not ‘hole in one’ that’s golf you moron,” Mike, who was sitting to Augustus’ left, said in reply. He looked rather disgruntled, his hood shading his face.  
  
Another boy who appeared quite frail could be seen out on the field holding said wooden bat, looking up toward the sky in wonderment.  
  
“Great hit Charlie! Now if only you could hit like that every time,” the coach said lightheartedly. “We’d never lose a game again!”  
  
“Thank you, Mr. Ruger, but I’m not sure I can consistently hit like that.”  
  
“Ha ha ha, oh that’s alright, I don’t think anyone can.”  
  
The two boys sitting on the bench looked on in contempt at this mushy, sweet, almost father-son like bond those two seemed to have, well at least one of the boys. Specifically, the one to the left, known mostly as Mike Teavee, but also known as a terrible child with a terrible temper, a child who only seemed happy when mindlessly indulging in TV and video games, particularly of the violent variety.  
  
“Well, I think that concludes this practice. You’re all free to go, but don’t forget the team tactics we discussed earlier! We’ve got a game coming up here soon and I want all of you to do your best; and the only way we’ll do our best is by listening to one another and working as a team! Okay?”  
  
“No one cares, old man!” Mike shouted.  
  
The coach wasn’t surprised by Mike’s rude remark, “The only one who doesn’t care is you Teavee, try having some team spirit for once!”  
  
“I care,” Charlie meekly affirmed.  
  
“See? You could learn a lot from Charlie here.”  
  
“Oh, you’re on a first name basis now?” Mike snarled.  
  
The coach narrowed his eyes in disappointment at Mike, this boy was nothing but trouble. Always starting arguments whether it was justified or not, he always had a snarky remark for every situation. Almost everyone agreed he was simply a rotten child, all except little Charlie. Charlie believed there was good in everyone, even if he couldn’t always prove it.  
  
“Anyway kids, you all got the memo, be safe going home now,” The coach continued, trying to ignore Mike’s provocative jabs.  
  
All the children disbanded and went off to their parents who were either already there waiting, or pretty much right on time.

Of course, Charlie however, had to walk home, his family could only afford one car and that car was being used by his dad to get to and from work, but Charlie wasn’t the only one whose parents didn’t come rushing to get him.  
  
Mike glanced around the parking lot before simply slouching down to sit on the curb.  
Charlie took note of this, no one else bat an eye, but why would they? Surely his parents were hurrying as fast as they could to pick up their son from baseball practice, especially considering the storm clouds closing in overhead.  
  
Still he looked a shade sad sitting there all by his lonesome, his eyes so gloomy, his smile upside down. Some might say he always looked like that, Charlie however, felt different. He knew Mike was mean, but never sad, that’s just not the Mike that Charlie knew. His intuition knew something was wrong and his heart told him to march toward the other boy.  
  
So, march he did.  
  
“Um, hello!” he chirped awkwardly.  
  
Mike heard Charlie’s pale attempt at conversation, but it was easier to pretend he didn’t.  
  
“Uh, sorry if I’m bothering you, I just noticed you look a little lonely.”  
  
Lonely? Lonely? Mike Teavee was incapable of experiencing such a feeble-minded emotion, or so he told himself.  
  
“I guess I’m trying to ask if you’re feeling alright, are you?” Charlie blinked his eyes with genuine concern.  
  
“Don’t you like, have something lame to go do?” Mike snapped, not even turning to look at the other boy.  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to seem rude.”  
  
Mike gagged internally at how sickeningly sweet this stupid loser was to him.  
“Look, if you’re trying to get me to fix your busted computer, the answer is no. I don’t work for free, or for anyone.”  
  
Charlie lightly chuckled, “I think there may be some confusion between us, I don’t even own a computer.”   
  
Mike’s eyes widened as he finally turned his head to face Charlie. How can someone even live without the sacred device known as a computer? But before Mike could hurl out the first terrible words that came to his head, a cold raindrop struck his nose.  
  
Then another one fell to the ground.  
Then another.  
Then another!  
The rain soon began to drizzle down steadily.  
  
“Uh oh, I guess I really should be headed home now, or my mom will start to worry," Charlie said, holding his palm up to feel the light rain.  
  
“Wait! I thought you were waiting to be picked up too?”  
  
Charlie wasn’t waiting, he never waited, he always walked home.   
It was a bit strange Mike assumed otherwise, but maybe no one had stuck around with him after practice before?  
  
“Umm, no, I always walk home, actually.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
The disappointment could be heard so obviously in Mike’s voice, Charlie had never seen that side of him before and he felt partially guilty, “I’m sorry," he said.  
  
“For what?”  
  
“I-uh.”  
  
The rain began to pick up while Charlie’s words failed him. "I guess I’ll be going now,” he said before taking a pause to think of something that could comfort someone like Mike. “Don’t worry, I’m sure your mom is on her way, or your dad . . .” he tried his best not to fumble the words, “It’s probably just traffic!”  
  
“My dad,” Mike growled.  
  
Charlie perked up to listen over the increasing rain, “What?”  
  
“My dad!” Mike now yelled in annoyance.  
  
Charlie was taken aback, but tried to stay optimistic, “Oh . . . I’m sure he’ll show up!”  
  
Mike shot an icy scowl at Charlie, clearly this wasn’t going as planned.  
  
“Um-I guess-if you’re alright, then, uh . . . I’ll just go.” Charlie squeaked before he hurried off toward his house.  
  
Through the heavy rain Charlie tried keep up a quick pace, feeling much worse now than before he attempted to befriend Mike. What if everyone was right, what if some people really are just rotten? What if Mike is one of those people?  
No, that couldn’t be true! Everyone has the potential for good in them, sometimes they just need a little push.  
  
Finally, after a bit of a walk, Charlie arrived home, his uniform was soaked in cold rain water.  
  
“Charlie! Where were you? I was getting worried something happened!” Mrs. Bucket said looking more frantic than standard.  
  
“I’m sorry mom, I was just talking to someone.”  
  
“Your clothes are all wet!”  
  
“I’m sorry mom.”  
  
Mrs. Bucket let out a soft sigh, “At least you’re alright.”  
  
  
  
Mike was still sitting by himself. The rain showed no sign of stopping, it rolled down the pavement like a stream; the only thing protecting him from the rain was the hood of his jacket and the hat underneath. And so, he sat, twiddling his thumbs, fiddling with drawstrings, counting pebbles and humming songs, yet still time seemed to move at the pace of a slug. The wind was harsh and cold, against his soaking clothes it stung like ice. His eyes slowly welled up with hot tears that felt nice in contrast to the chilly rain, but still it hurt.  
The tears hurt.  
  
At this point, as the sun crept to the other side of the earth, he was ready to walk himself home, but as it got darker by the minute, the prospect of walking home by himself lessened. He didn’t even know which direction to go anyway.

An hour had pasted, suddenly the sound of footsteps rang in rhythm with the rain. Mike jumped up to look around, he had to be on guard in case of a creep, but he also really hoped it was his dad.  
  
His dad!  
  
The car must’ve broke down so he had to walk! That makes sense, right? That must be it.  
  
“Hello, Mike!”  
  
It wasn’t dad.  
  
He turned to find it was that stupid loser who wouldn’t leave him alone, holding a rickety umbrella and dull flashlight.

Now he was furious at Charlie for giving him a false sense of hope. He gripped his hands tensely into fists, but before he could sock the goody two shoes right out of that suck-up’s face!  
  
He hesitated.  
  
He released his tightly clenched fingers and opted for abrasive use of English instead, “Go away!” he cried.  
  
But the other, frailer boy didn’t take it to heart, he still stood strong. Mike treated everyone this way and Charlie was determined not to treat him poorly in return.  
  
Mike stepped back, “What do you want doofus? Why are you here!?”  
  
“To see if you still were.”  
  
Mike’s heart twisted at the sound of those words, it made him feel sick in the way eating too much candy does.  
  
“Suppose you need an umbrella?” Charlie offered, holding his umbrella above Mike’s head.  
  
“I don’t want your pity umbrella!”  
  
“I think you’d be happier if you had it.”  
  
“Shut up, nerd!” Mike turned to stomp away, “I’m just gonna walk home by myself!”  
  
Charlie started after him, “Do you even know how to get there?”  
  
The other boy stopped to think, “No, but being lost is better than being with you.”  
  
“Please don’t wander off, you could get hurt!”  
  
“Sorry, I can’t hear you over how big a pansy you are!” Mike taunted, continuing on with his aimless attempt to get home.  
  
“I know my way pretty well around town, I could help you if you’d let me!” Charlie offered, trailing behind.  
  
“Don’t follow me you weirdo, I don’t want your help.”  
  
“But maybe we could go to my house, my mom could call your parents.”  
  
Mike halted to turn around causing Charlie to bump into him.  
  
“Oof! Ah-I-I’m sorry!”  
  
Mike looked down at Charlie, “Stop following me.”  
  
“I’m sorry, I just feel bad.”  
  
“See? That’s the problem! I don’t want pity; I don’t need pity!” Mike said while roaming off again. “My dad cares about me, he just forgot is all, it’s not a big deal.” He started picking up the pace, “Not like it’s the first time this happened, why do you care all of a sudden?”  
  
“I don’t know, you just seemed really sad today.”  
  
“Sad? Yeah right.”  
  
They started heading down streets that were even unfamiliar to Charlie, “Can you please stop?” he asked.  
  
“No, but you can.”  
  
These streets looked worn and glum, a bit on the shadier side. The street lamps flickered and hummed, trash was strewn about the sidewalks. This definitely wasn’t the way to the Teavee’s house. Charlie knew he had to think of something to get Mike to calm down, but his mind refused to cooperate under the pressure. He just couldn’t think of what to say, or what to do. Hopefully this wouldn’t take all night. He told his family where he’d be and this wasn’t where he said, but he wasn’t about to let Mike wander on his own even if that’s what Mike wanted.   
  
"Mike, aren’t you hungry?” Charlie asked.  
  
“No."  
  
“Not at all?”  
  
Mike paused, turning half way to face Charlie, “. . . Maybe a little.”  
  
“See? And aren’t you cold in those wet clothes?”  
  
“Hmm . . . Nope, don’t care about being cold.”  
  
“You wouldn’t have to be though if you’d just come to my house.” Charlie smiled, “You wouldn’t be hungry either.”  
  
Then suddenly a powerful boom reverberated in accordance with lighting across the town.  
Mike jumped right out of his skin! He looked at Charlie with wide glossy eyes, “W-was that thunder?”  
  
Charlie couldn’t help but chuckle, “Are _you_ scared of thunder?” he tried to say without mockery.  
  
“No! I’m not scared of it, I hate it! When there’s thunder there’s a chance the power’ll go out, I can’t stand it.”  
  
_Boom!_ The thunder rumbled. 

Mike fell over onto Charlie, shaking slightly, “It’s useless! What’s thunder even good for?”  
  
“Electricity?”  
  
Mike stood up to regain composure, looking rather irritated “That’s not how electricity works, idiot.”  
  
Another bolt of lightning blinked in the darkness.  
  
“We really shouldn’t stay out here in this thunderstorm,” Charlie said.  
  
_Crash!_

Mike grew increasingly fearful with each roar of thunder, “I-I don’t wanna stay out here anyway!”  
  
“So, you are scared?”  
  
“I’m not!”  
  
Charlie didn’t admit it either, but even he became a bit fearful with the weather, “C’mon, follow me!” he said, pulling Mike by his jacket.  
  
He rushed back in the direction they came, at least, he hoped it was the direction they came; it was hard to see with only an old flashlight and occasional sputtering street lamps to light the way. He nearly tripped when the sound of a deafeningly close bolt made Mike halt.  
“Why’ve you stopped?” Charlie asked. “We need to get to shelter!”  
  
Mike narrowed his eyes at the small boy, “Do you really even know where you’re going!?” he asked, but before Charlie could answer Mike continued, “You better not be lost!”  
  
_What?_ Charlie thought, “You’re the reason we’re lost!”  
  
“So, you admit that your lost?”  
  
Mike was truly starting to test Charlie’s patience. “Look, you could either trust me to find our way to my house, or you could stay out here in the storm!” he shouted meekly. He was only trying his best to help; he didn’t understand why Mike was acting so cruel in return. “If you really want to get home, you have to trust me,” he said, grabbing hold of Mike’s hand.  
  
Mike quickly ripped his hand away, “Ew.”  
  
Charlie sighed a great sigh of defeat, “Do you want to get home or not?”  
  
“Okay, okay, fine! Lead the way weirdo,” Mike said, reluctantly offering back out his hand.  
  
And so little Charlie took a strong hold of Mike’s hand, nodded, and rushed off once again.  
They ran and ran, no slowing down, even though the much more out of shape Mike had trouble keeping up. It felt like that little Charlie was going to rip his arm off, the boy looked so frail and even though Mike had seen him move pretty quickly at baseball practice, it was still a surprise to him he could run like this.  
Charlie was full of surprises he guessed, as it was also surprising that he even came back for him.  
  
“Hey, why’d you come back to the field, just to see if I was there?” Mike asked, still being dragged along.  
  
“Well, I just had a strange feeling about it I guess.”  
  
Mike felt some sort of emotion about this, though he couldn’t pin point exactly what emotion it was.  
“What’d you have a psychic vision or something?” he mocked.  
  
“No, I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Charlie assured, even though Mike was clearly joking. “Y’know, it was raining when I left and you didn’t have an umbrella, so I figured maybe I could give you one, if you were still there of course.”  
  
Once again Mike was ready to throw up from all this sickening sweetness.  
  
“Hey by the way though,” Charlie started, “What happened to your mom, doesn’t she usually pick you up?”  
  
Mike’s face snapped from neutral-scared to oddly resentful, “She went out . . . or something like that."  
  
“Oh,” Charlie muttered, he didn’t want to pry any further.  
  
They both went onward in silence the rest of the way, until they finally stood at the door of the Bucket house. It was a house Mike had never seen before and a ramshackle looking one indeed.  
  
“Here we are!” Charlie rejoiced, opening the creaky old door.  
  
Charlie went right inside as he does, however Mike—who was unfamiliar with such an environment—slowly crept in.  
  
Mr. Bucket was now home and dinner had just been finished, Mrs. Bucket was about ready to go off on Charlie until she saw the other (somehow paler) boy slinking behind him.  
  
“Mom, Dad, Grandma Georgina, Grandpa George, Grandma Josephine, Grandpa Joe, meet Mike!”  
  
Mike felt only mildly mortified at how dilapidated Charlie’s home looked. He halfheartedly glanced around, “This place is a total dump!” he said.  
  
Charlie’s entire family stared judgingly at Mike.  
  
“Why I never,” said Grandma Josephine.  
  
They all turned to Charlie for answers.  
“Charlie,” Mr. Bucket began, “Where on planet earth have you been? And why is this boy with you?”  
  
“Oh, um . . .” Charlie stammered, he looked back at Mike in hope of support—he didn’t get any.  
  
“He’s soaking wet!” said Grandpa George.  
  
Mrs. Bucket slowly approached Mike who was drawing away from everyone into a corner, “Are you alright?” she asked gently.  
  
Mike crossed his arms in defiance, “Lady, I like, just met you. Back off!”  
  
“My, my, what terrible manners!” Grandma Georgina interjected.  
  
Slowly this was turning a bit more chaotic than Charlie initially thought it would.  
  
“Is this a friend of yours, Charlie?” Grandpa Joe asked with a hint of disdain.  
  
“What would you old losers do if I was?” Mike pressured.  
  
“Alright! That’s quite enough from you, young man!” Mr. Bucket scolded. “Charlie, I think we’re in serious need of an explanation here.”  
  
Charlie took a deep breath to regain composure, “So,” he began slowly, “When we got off from baseball practice Mike looked lonely waiting there by himself, so I talked to him.”  
  
“I wasn’t lonely,” Mike mumbled.  
  
“When I got home I had a feeling he was still there, so I told Mom where I was going and went back, then I found he was,” Charlie looked up at his mother, “I’m sorry, I guess I probably should’ve told you what I was doing.”  
  
Mrs. Bucket looked at Mike with concern, “You were waiting out in the rain by yourself?” she asked.  
  
“Yeah?” Mike answered unsure of exactly how to answer at this point.  
  
“Wait, aren’t you the Teavee’s kid?” Mr. Bucket asked.  
  
“Uh, yeah, does it matter?”  
  
“What happened to your parents?” Mrs. Bucket asked.  
  
Mike grew increasingly uneasy with this bombardment of questions, he’d barely just met these people. Sure, maybe he’d seen them around before, but this was his first time being truly introduced to them.  
  
“His dad was supposed to pick him up,” Charlie said, “But he never showed, I guess.”  
  
Mike’s entire body shifted to noticeably downhearted at the mention of this, though he tried so hard not to show it.  
  
Charlie continued, “I convinced him to come here so maybe you could call his family.”  
  
“Y’know, I think I have their number somewhere.” Mr. Bucket said, ambling over to a junk drawer in the other room.  
  
Mrs. Bucket knelt down to Mike’s level, “I could get you a dry set of clothes if you want,” she said, then took note of his pouty face, “Or just a towel.”  
Mike didn’t say anything to her, but she could tell that just a towel was his choice. So, she scurried to the bathroom to find one.  
  
While Charlie’s parents were both in other rooms, Charlie wanted to try his best at hospitality, though quickly he learned hospitality is really hard when your guest is Mike Teavee.  
“Would you maybe like some tea? We have a good few kinds.”  
  
“What? Tea?” Mike questioned like he’d been asked what his address was by a stranger.  
  
“Yeah, tea, it’s really good, have you ever had any?” Charlie went on, smiling nervously.  
  
“Ew, no! Tea is gross!”  
  
“But, how would you know if you’ve never had it?”  
  
“It smells gross, like you.”  
  
Grandpa Joe shot right up at this, “Excuse me, boy? You leave our little Charlie alone!”  
  
“It’s alright Grandpa Joe, I don’t really mind.”  
  
“Oh brother,” Mike nonchalantly rolled his eyes, though truly he was irked by Charlie’s resilience.  
  
“Aha! Found it!” Mr. Bucket exclaimed brightly from the other room. He came back over and went straight for the phone. He dialed the number and they all waited patiently as the phone rang in his ear.

Mrs. Bucket also came back over from the bathroom with a soft but faded blue towel. She went to Mike and wrapped it around his shivering shoulders. “There you are,” she said. “You must’ve been scared out there all by yourself.”  
  
“I wasn’t scared,” Mike said, wrapping the towel tighter around his body.  
  
Now that everyone had finally settled down a bit, they patiently waited in silence.  
The phone rang and rang.  
They waited and waited.  
And waited and waited.  
Then it happened, the voicemail left by Mrs. Teavee began to play.  
  
“Hmm, no answer,” Mr. Bucket said, growing puzzled by the situation.  
  
“Shouldn’t you leave a message?” Mike asked sneeringly.  
  
“No, I’m going to try calling again first.”  
  
So, he dialed the number once more and everyone waited again.  
It rang and rang.  
They waited and waited.  
But then this time someone picked up!

A tired voice could be heard on the other end, "Hello?"

All the lights were off in the Teavee house, only the light of the TV peeking through the living room lit the kitchen that Mr. Teavee had ambled into.  
  
“Hello?” Mr. Teavee asked again, his voice sounded hazy and slow.  
  
“Hello, is this Mr. Teavee I’m speaking to?”  
  
Mr. Teavee rubbed a hand down his face from his eyes, “Yeah, who wants to know?” he asked.  
  
“Bucket.”  
  
“Which one?”  
  
“Mr. Bucket.”  
  
“What’s the problem?” Mr. Teavee asked, leaning heavily into the wall that the phone was attached to.  
  
Mr. Bucket’s eyes grew wide, he laughed in disbelief. “Do you know?” he asked.  
  
“Know what?”  
  
“That your child is currently in my home soaking wet with rain! Heavens, he must’ve been out there for hours!”  
  
The tension between the two could be felt by everyone in the Bucket house, even though what Mr. Teavee was saying couldn’t be heard.

Mike was aggressively fidgeting with the edges of the towel tightly wrapped around him.   
  
“How exactly was I supposed to know that?” Mr. Teavee asked defensively.  
  
“Weren’t you supposed to pick him up from baseball practice?”  
  
“Was I?”  
  
“Were you?”  
  
Mr. Teavee went dead quiet, the realization just hit him. He was supposed to pick up Mike from baseball practice. "I forgot . . ." he said.  
  
Mr. Bucket was amazed by Mr. Teavee’s thoughtlessness, “How on earth do you forget to pick up your own kid? Are you drunk?”  
  
No response from Mr. Teavee was to be heard.  
  
“Hello? Hello? I swear! He just hung up on me!”  
  
Mike fidgeted more and more, “Can you call him back? He’s gonna come get me, right?” He looked around at the small house with a lack of beds, “I really don’t wanna stay in this dump!” he whined.  
  
His wording was rude, but everyone still felt a little bad for him.  
  
“I’ll try to call again,” Mr. Bucket assured, dialing one more time.  
  
_Ring, ring,_ “Hello?”  
  
“Hello, Teavee.”  
  
Mr. Teavee instantly knew who it was, “Bucket, what do you want?”  
  
“Your son is still at my house,” Mr. Bucket said tapping his foot, growing very impatient.  
  
“Y’know, I don’t appreciate you accusing me of that.”  
  
“Of being drunk?”  
  
“Yes!”  
  
Mr. Bucket sighed exhaustedly, “Well I’m sorry, could you please come get your son, for his sake.”  
  
“I was going to, but then you called again.”  
  
“Well alright, I’ll hang up right now and you can come get him. Goodbye, Teavee.”  
  
“Bye.”  
  
Mr. Bucket hung the phone right up. He looked at Mike, “Your father’s on his way now,” he said simply.  
  
“Good, I don’t wanna stay here any longer,” Mike said.  
  
“We don’t want you here any longer either!” Grandpa George added.  
  
“Hey now! Let’s not get worked up again,” Mrs. Bucket said, trying to keep the peace. She knelt down to Mike’s level once again, “I know you must feel pretty upset being stuck in an unfamiliar place like this, but your dad will show up soon, don’t worry.”  
  
Her soft and sweet voice was painfully disarming to Mike and it was so hard to keep up the tough act after how worn down he was from the day. He did everything in his power to hold back from crying.  
  
Mrs. Bucket really wanted to hug him and comfort him, but she knew he wouldn’t respond well to it, seeing how he acted with his own mother. Charlie also wished he could help more, he really wished Mike would open up so maybe they could be friends.  
  
But Mike was very rough around the edges, hard to truly touch. Some might say he was like a hedgehog, spiny on the surface, but soft underneath. He however, felt more like a sea urchin, spiny all over and venomous underneath.  
But even sea urchins have a soft core underneath the outer shell, you just have to find someone brave enough to crack them open.  
  
They all sat quietly in the rickety old Bucket house. Rain splashed harmoniously on the roof top; wind whipped against the windows. The thunder rumbled the earth, still scaring Mike when it got close. Charlie still hadn’t had anything to eat for supper that night, the lids of his eyes were closing on their own. Everyone was pretty tired and worn out, working all day, running around, being old—being left alone.  
  
It was a long day.  
  
Mike started dozing off, leaning onto Charlie who was sat right next to him, a very rare moment indeed. Charlie didn’t mind, it was peaceful for Mike to not be so stand offish and he was about ready to fall asleep as well. He almost did fall asleep too until the bright headlights of a car shone through the house windows.  
  
“That must be Teavee,” Mr. Bucket said.  
  
“It looks like Mike’s fallen asleep,” Mrs. Bucket added. “Can you wake him Charlie?”  
  
“Sure,” Charlie replied. “Wake up, Mike, your dad’s here,” he said lightly while shaking Mike.  
  
Mike slowly blinked open his aching eyes, “Huh . . . My dad?”  
  
“Yep, that should be him right outside,” Mr. Bucket said somewhat cheerily.  
  
Mike stumbled up from the floor, still keeping the towel wrapped around him. He looked up at Mrs. Bucket, hoping she would let him keep the towel, he was very cold.  
  
Mrs. Bucket gave him a knowing nod.  
  
Mike walked over to the door, “See ya,” he said plainly.  
  
“Bye Mike,” Charlie said sweetly.  
  
Mike rolled his eyes and went outside.  
  
There his father was waiting right by the car, holding an umbrella. "Hiya Mike," he said nervously.  
  
Mike didn’t reply.  
  
“C’mon, you better get out of this rain, we wouldn’t want you getting any wetter, right?” Mr. Teavee’s attempts at lightheartedness completely backfired, it only seemed to make Mike angrier.  
  
They both got in the car in awkward silence.  
  
“I promise I won’t do it again,” Mr. Teavee said.  
  
“That’s what you said last time!” Mike yelled suddenly. He looked out the car window as tears filled his tear ducts, “Just take me home.”  
  
And so, Mr. Teavee did. They drove the rest of the way in bitter silence.

The Teavee family all sat at the dinner table eating microwave food, you could hear a pin drop it was so quiet.  
  
“So how was baseball practice today, sweetie?” Mrs. Teavee asked, trying to break the silence.  
  
Mr. Teavee motioned at her to not talk about that.  
  
Mrs. Teavee was confused, she got home after they did, “Did something happen?” she asked.  
  
Mike started aggressively tapping his finger on the table.  
  
Mrs. Teavee became concerned, “Mikey, sweetheart, you can tell me if something’s wrong.”  
  
Mike ignored his mom and continued staring at his dad with a venomous malice behind his eyes.  
  
“So, how was your day honey?” Mr. Teavee asked his wife, attempting to move the subject away from their son.  
  
“Oh, it was wonderful, if only you could’ve come with me.”  
  
Mike turned his scowl toward his mother.  
  
Mrs. Teavee was getting even more worried now, but still she tried to go on like normal “Oh, uh, you wouldn’t’ve liked it Mike.”  
  
Mike just kept on tapping his finger.  
  
“Medication! Mike have you had yours yet?” Mrs. Teavee asked awkwardly, sitting up from the table to go get hers.  
  
“No,” Mike replied.  
  
“Ah, you should’ve had it earlier, your dad must’ve forgot.”  
  
Mr. Teavee felt like he had just been caught committing a crime upon hearing those words.  
  
“He forgot more than that,” Mike jabbed.  
  
Mrs. Teavee wasn’t really sure she heard him right and just went on over to the cabinet where the medication was kept.  
  
Mike continued glaring at his dad, he didn’t look away. Mike wanted to make sure his dad knew his anger.  
  
“Mike,” Mr. Teavee began, “I know you’re upset, but staring at me isn’t gonna make it better.”  
  
Mrs. Teavee heard what her husband said, but decided still to ignore whatever was going on between the two. She put Mike’s medication next to his plate.  
  
Mike quickly swallowed it down with some soda, then without a word, he went off to his room upstairs, his food was barely touched.  
  
Mrs. Teavee caught worried eyes with her husband, he seemed almost as irritated as her son. She turned her head to glance at the wine bottles stored out in the open, they seemed to lure her over to open one. Soon she was pouring herself a glass of wine, which quickly turned to two, then three, then many, many more.  
  
Mr. Teavee had already flopped down on the couch by this point, aimlessly watching TV shows that weren’t of any worth. Eventually he’d fall asleep there and Mrs. Teavee was left to sleep in bed by herself, but she was so drunk many nights that she’d often fall asleep sitting at the kitchen table.  
  
Mike stayed up past midnight playing video games in his room, he always did. But that night was a little different, that night he just lied in bed thinking. He thought about Charlie and how he decided to come back for him, even though he’d always treated Charlie so mean. He thought about how nice Mrs. Bucket was, even though he was only ever considered a nuisance to all other adults around him.  
  
He gazed up at the ceiling as his eyes closed under the weight of being awake for so long.  
 _What a day_ , he thought to himself as the dream world slowly pulled him into a deep sleep. But truly, it wasn’t anything he wasn’t already used to.


End file.
